The Magic

2010

See those people?

The one on left right is my grandpa-- Edson King Barton. Grandpa Ed. Strong Edson King with a heart the size of Texas and the best hugs in the world.

The one on the right is my grandma-- Ellen Ann Allen.Grandma Ann. Dreamy Ellen Ann with the loveliest silver hair I ever saw and the grace of a queen.

These are remarkable people. And they are full of magic and beautiful things.

When I was little, their backyard was the place I wanted to be most out of anywhere in the whole world. The white stone walls around it were my safe haven. The place where I existed as a princess. The giant cherry tree was my castle, and true love was forever waiting on the other side of the rose garden.

Their living room was like a dream. The afternoon sun would filter through the rosy pink glass and cast its spell on me. I would lie on the green velvet couch and bask in the lazy light and feel the warmth of contentment melt through my little dreamer heart.

There were paintings on the walls that I could stare at for hours (well, minutes, but to a kid...). There was one oil painting depicting a little girl with long, golden braids walking through a dark forest. Illumination came from above her where an angel watched every step she took. I knew at those moments staring up, almost smelling the pines, nearly hearing the crunch of the forest ground beneath me, that that little girl was me and that angel was my namesake, my Aunt Becky, making sure I didn't get lost in the dark.

That home was my little slice of heaven on earth. The place where happiness covered everything and made life sparkle and shine like the fresh dusting of snow that always topped the mountains just beyond the white walls. And I knew that there, in between those white walls, nothing could ever go wrong. And I knew it would be there forever.

I'm all grown up now. I lived in that house, out of the goodness of my grandparents' hearts, sporadically during my days at BYU. And although I can now see that things are not perfect, that tears are sometimes shed in that house, that sickness and sadness and all hard things can touch the lives of the people I love most even inside those walls, I have never been able to deny the magic that is there. It's the magic that Edson King and Ellen Ann have created. It still crackles in the fireplace, even though the logs fake now and the flames turn on with the flip of a switch. It still dances through the curtains with the afternoon sun. It still shines down from Aunt Becky's face where she watches over everyone from her place on the mantle.

And it's there in the way my grandpa looks at my grandma-- like he's never seen anything so beautiful in his life. It's there in the careful way my grandma toasts her husband's gluten free toast in the labeled side of the toaster. It's there hovering above them as they read together side by side before bedtime.

Beauty and magic are all around us. And I'm so glad. But I'm starting to see that nothing beautiful or magic is easy to come by. It's created only through love. Lots of love. I am so grateful for wonderful people like Edson King and Ellen Ann who love and create beauty and share it with the world.



Speaking of magic... it's Friday. (I truly thought it might never come.)